Changes
by HollyJeen
Summary: Just a little ficlet because the board is slow right now. Frank reflects on his first impressions of Mark.


Changes

Frank Harper stood silent, contemplating the Gatehouse door. Shifting the present in his arms, he raised his hand to knock. Instead, though, he gently rested it on the smooth wood, wondering at his uncustomary hesitation.

_Get a grip, _he chided himself. _He'll think you've lost it if he sees you out here moaning around. _Still, though, Frank hesitated, for he knew that this day marked a turning point, not only for the young man on the other side of the door, but for all who had grown to love him in the preceding years. With a wistful smile, Frank thought of his first meeting with the inexplicable Mark McCormick.

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Grinning slightly because he was – for once – running ahead of schedule, Frank Harper pulled his sedan into the drive at Gull's Way. He expected to meet with Hardcastle to discuss – for the umpteenth time – the older man's insane idea of trying _again_ to have a convict live with him. For the life of him, Frank just could not understand the merits of this particular idea. He was used to Hardcastle taking a unique approach to things, but he could not help but feel that the recently-retired jurist had finally gone too far with this latest plan.

To Frank's surprise, Hardcastle had recently taken to gruffly correcting Frank's frequently-voiced opinion of the newest project, Mark McCormick, pointing out that the younger man was, at least technically, an _ex-_con. Having been out-of-town at a trial for two weeks, Frank was curious – and somewhat alarmed – to see that Hardcastle's stance on McCormick had shifted in that short time. With his other "rehabilitation projects," Hardcastle had been careful to keep his distance, but within less than a month, McCormick was living in the Gatehouse, sharing meals with the judge, and generally becoming a "sidekick" in Hardcastle's crazy scheme. Frank didn't like it one bit. While the judge had any number of friends, Frank counted himself as family; therefore, it was his job to protect the older man, and he intended to do just that when it came to a certain _convict_ named Mark McCormick.

As Frank stepped from the car, he heard a radio playing at deafening levels in the garage. Stepping closer, he saw McCormick tinkering with the judge's beloved Corvette. Suddenly angrythat the younger man had so easily slipped beneath Hardcastle's radar, Frank strode to the radio and yanked the volume down. He simultaneously yelled at the younger man, and took guilty pleasure in seeing McCormick jump and bang his head on the car hood.

"Ow! What the ..?" Petering off as he realized Frank was there, McCormick stood awkwardly, rubbing his hands on an old cloth. Frank could clearly see that the younger man was unsure around him, and the feeling of guilty satisfaction strengthened. _If you're going to hurt him,_ he swore silently, _You're gonna have to go through me. _The two men stood for a moment, sizing each other up. Frank was surprised when McCormick blinked first, especially when the other man offered an enigmatic smile.

"Hey, Lieutenant," he drawled as he propped himself up – not on the Corvette, as Frank had suspected, but on the Coyote parked just behind it. "What brings you out to our neck of the woods?"

Frank suppressed a sigh of irritation at the other man's insolence, and gruffly told McCormick he was there to see Hardcastle.

"Well, Lieutenant," Mark said, sweeping a lazy glance around the room. While the cockiness seemed perfectly at home on the curly-haired man, Frank thought he caught a brief glimpse of another emotion – one the police officer couldn't quite define. Everything about McCormick seemed elusive, though Frank found that he was having trouble holding on to his suspicion when the other man was so engagingly friendly. "Look's like Hardcase isn't here right now. What I can do for you?"

Frank narrowed his eyes as he slowly moved his gaze around the garage, whipping back to McCormick when the other let out a short bark of laughter.

"Here you go, Lieutenant. I think you're looking for this," McCormick said as he handed over a shovel.

Frank lifted puzzled eyes to the younger man and shook his head.

McCormick just offered yet another enigmatic grin, and said, "Trust me, you're gonna need it. I can tell that you think I offed him and stuck him in the roses. I figure, if you're gonna look, you're gonna need a shovel. Those thorns are murder… oops, guess I shouldn't cop to that, huh? Might make me an accessory. Anyway,if you're gonna poke around, the least you can do is get some of my work done too, while you're at it. Just make sure to dig deep enough to get under the roots, or the ghost of Hardcastle will haunt ya forever."

With that, the cocky young man went back to work, idly flipping the volume button up as he went by. Frank stared at his back for a moment, torn betweenirritation and reluctant amusement. Before he could react, he heard the unmistakably sound of Hardcastle's ancient pickup truck in the drive. He returned the older man's enthusiastic wave, watching as Hardcastle bounded out of the truck. Seeinghis friend's long-missedgrin directedin the general direction of the younger man, Frank found his resistance fading even more. _I trust Milt… maybe he sees something special in this one._ Before Frank could examine this new feeling, McCormick interrupted his thoughts.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant Harper," he said, surprising Frank with the intensity of his gaze. Suddenly, the lieutenantfelt as if the other man had suddenly peered all the way to his soul, and somehow knew exactly what he was thinking. McCormick continued, "I know you're just waiting for me to screw up, but I really do have permission to be exactly where I am right now." He leaned forward toward Frank, with the other man unconsciously mimicking his body language. "You're gonna have to wait a good long time if you want to see me blow it. Hurts being wrong about somebody, doesn't it?"

Shaking his head, Frank did the only thing he could think to do. Figuring that if Hardcastle was going down, then he was going with him – Frank gave in his desire to grin at McCormick's sheer audacity, and slowly replaced the shovel on the wall. Offering the young man a grin and a wink, the lieutenant turned back to Hardcastle and offered a hearty hello.

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Blinking against the memories of yesterday, Frank decided not to knock. After all, Mark had a lot to do to get ready for the graduation ceremony, and Frank didn't want to bother him. Placing the gaily-wrapped shovel gently against the door, Frank ambled back to the car. Just as he got in, he glanced toward the Gatehouse and smiled. "Nah, kid," he said softly. "Sometimes being wrong doesn't hurt at all."

With that, Frank drove away, eager to begin the graduation celebration. Thinking of all the changes wrought since the _ex-_con moved in, he was confident that – no matter what – things in the future would only be changing for the better.

Fin


End file.
